


Spangles and Rambo

by Arcwin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All the oranges, Birthday Present, Domestic Fluff, I didn't even read that fic but I know oranges are important to Stucky, M/M, Oranges, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Being Tony, Tony's Red Sports Car is Super Sciencey, We're just going to act like IW works out perfectly fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 06:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15237858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcwin/pseuds/Arcwin
Summary: **This was a birthday gift for my dear sister, a delightful woman who spends her days making beautiful art, writing fantastically emotive fanfiction about Stucky (and then reading it dramatically to her husband while he rolls his eyes), and taking care of three beautiful little boys who she loves with all her being. As such, it contains an OFC, which just so happens to be a characterization of her.**Stark's decided we have to investigate a new vigilante in town, even though we areofficiallyretired and doing our best to not get involved. Seems to me like she's doing the right thing, but experience tells me things aren't always as they seem.





	Spangles and Rambo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SmearedBlackInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmearedBlackInk/gifts).



> With all the love you deserve!! <3

Every so often, there’s an ordinary person who becomes a hero. Sometimes, it’s one extraordinary event that changes the course of a life. Other times, it can be subtle, small things that just add up until one day--bam!  **A hero.** The person themselves doesn’t usually even realize it, they just wake up and life seems...sweeter. More vibrant and clear. The people around them notice, too, even though they can’t quite name  _ what’s _ changed. 

That’s my favorite kind of hero--the self made,  _ I took my time getting here _ type of hero.

I was not made that way myself, even though I kept trying. I’d stand up to creeps who were harassing women, or give something up to someone who had less than I did. I kept trying, and it just didn’t work out for me like that. Bucky would watch me lose the battle to become a hero time and again, saving me from my own self righteousness and then laughing at me later while patching me up.

Then, everything changed.  **_Suddenly_ ** . It didn’t leave room for me to ease into it, nor him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Everything changed and we all had to spin in circles until we figured it out. 

The time spent figuring it out between us all is now a blur, and here I am 70 years later trying to ease back into a  _ less _ heroic life with Buck. It’s not easy, as I’m sure he’d agree, but we’re trying. We’ll figure it out.

Or, we would, except  _ she _ kept popping up.

It all started with a phone call from Stark.

“Hey, Spangles. You’ve seen the news?” he asked. I groaned and rolled my eyes at Bucky, who was staring questioningly across the breakfast table at me while popping a small handful of blueberries into his mouth. He closed his eyes in quiet reverence for the sweet treat, his face dropping ten years. I smiled at him, happy for our quiet domesticity, before replying to Tony.

“No, Tony. I’ve just been enjoying my breakfast. Haven’t had much interest in the news lately. Something I should be paying attention to?” I asked before taking a sip of my black coffee. Never could get into putting anything into it--war rations change your tastes and make things like cream and sugar luxuries that you find you can go without.

He huffed, annoyed, and responded, “There’s a new face in town. Put on channel 5. I’ll be by in an hour to pick you and Rambo up.”

“Rambo?”

Across the table from me, Bucky snorted, covering his face with his hand. I frowned at him and he shook his head, mouthing, ‘ _ Later’ _ before turning to grab the remote off the counter and put on the television across the apartment. He flicked the couple of channels down until there was a blurry cellphone video of a figure popping up in the middle of a hostage situation. A few seconds later, the criminals were on the ground, writhing in pain, and the figure was running away. The video stopped and shrunk down to the upper right hand corner of the screen while a news anchor speculated about the origins of the new hero and whether to trust them. 

Around a mouthful of toast, Bucky commented, “Looks like a chick.”

“What makes you say that?”

Taking a swig of coffee, he pointed at the TV. “Those.”

In the blurred still-frame, I could make out the small points at the bottoms of the figure’s shoes:  _ heels _ .

“Anyone could be wearing heels nowadays, Buck…,” I replied with a smirk, draining the last of my coffee and setting the mug down with a  _ thunk _ . I wiped my palm across my upper lip, collecting any coffee that had been trapped in my mustache and beard, and added, “Guess we better get ready. Stark will be here soon.”

* * *

“Wow, you shaved just for me?” Tony asked snarkily with a light poke at my shoulder. He flashed his signature grin at Bucky, glaringly white teeth flashing in the sunlight beneath his clearly exorbitantly expensive  _ Cartier  _ sunglasses. His outfit was typical Stark--a band shirt, hoodie, and designer jeans. He tries so hard to fit in, but he just can’t quite pull it off. Too flashy for that.

He hopped into the front seat of his sports car and pulled his glasses down on his nose, eyebrows high on his forehead while he announced, “Get in losers. It’s time to make a new friend!”

As he drove, his car told us all that was known about this mysterious vigilante. It was assumed that the person was a woman, given the multiple eyewitness accounts. She was lean, average height, and had dark brown hair with highlights that seemed to change every time she showed up in public. Her outfit was different every time, appearing basically the same but with a new color or accent feature depending on what was happening around her. 

“A mutant?” Bucky asked, frowning at the virtual reality screen projected in front of us. 

Stark shook his head in the front seat, the car lurching to the right as he turned suddenly. “Unclear. Could just be an out of work fashion designer who got bored,” he said sarcastically. “Regardless, we need to find out what her aim is.”

Something didn’t sit right for me, and I looked over at Bucky. He met my eye, chewing on his bottom lip, and shrugged. “You sure you aren’t just trying to stop her?” I asked Stark, leaning forward in my seat.

“Why would I stop someone who’s helping?” he demanded, whizzing around a delivery truck and screeching to a halt to let a pedestrian cross at a red light.

I scoffed. “You don’t like being out of control.”

He whipped around in his seat to glare at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Beside me, Bucky snorted, his frame shaking from suppressed laughter. “You know what it means, Stark. You’re basically the self elected mayor of superheroes--”

“President,” he interrupted, wagging a finger and turning back to shift into gear. “Wait, no--monarch. King? Can I be the King of superheroes? Of course I can. I  _ am _ the King of Superheroes! I expect you to address me as your Majesty the Lord Tony Stark.” He nodded to himself with satisfaction, cranking up his music and driving for a few more minutes until we finally stopped and the car shut off.

“Where are we?” I asked as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, running my fingers through my beard and scratching my cheek. 

“At a meetup! Remember, I said we were going to make a new friend today?” Stark responded, bounding out ahead on the pavement. He walked about fifty feet and then turned into a building--a bank, I realized, as I glanced up the facade--and steered us over to a waiting area with a few stiff leather couches. He immediately reclined, completely at ease, and gestured for us to join him. 

Bucky, confused, asked, “What are we doing here?”

“You two just don’t listen, do you? Hearing finally going? Watch the door,” Tony replied, nodding at the way we entered. He pulled out his phone, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was doing, but he seemed tense. Not just tense, but ready. The air between us was charged, and Bucky and I shared knowing looks before leaning back and waiting. Luckily, we have plenty of experience waiting for the right moment, so it was less stressful for us than it probably was for Stark. Buck sat next to me, arms crossed, peering at the door every so often through his hair. 

After about five minutes, there was some commotion in the teller line and a scream as several people in masks pulled guns and started shouting. I moved to stand, already assessing the situation to determine the leader, when Stark reached over to stop me, a hand on my forearm. 

“Cool it, Cap. Give it a minute,” he said with a glance over his sunglasses. He slinked to the floor, hands raised above his head, and Bucky and I joined him before we drew too much attention from the villains terrorizing the bank tellers. A small child was crying, clearly terrified, and the mother was trying hard to soothe him but it just wasn’t working out. Annoyed, one of the gunmen came over and started shouting at both of them to be quiet, which only escalated the entire situation. 

I threw a glare at Stark and started to rise, unable to let this situation go on any longer, when suddenly there was a flash of rainbow light and the shouting gunman was crashing across the room and slumping on the floor. Peeking around the uncomfortable leather couch I was crouched next to, I saw the blur of color as our new would-be friend quickly dispatched each of the villains and helped every single person to their feet. When she finally reached us, Stark was already standing and offered to shake her hand.

“Marvelous work, truly spectacular. So, mutant or…?” he asked bluntly, staring her in the face. “And rainbow? Very inclusive, I like it. Good image to uphold if you’re going to be the new vigilante in town. Plus it does a good job of separating you from Black Widow, who is decidedly...monochromatic.”

She blinked at him, her hair shifting from the bright red it was while she defended the people in the bank to a dark, midnight blue. Her mouth dropped open, and she took a deep breath in...and turned away, fleeing before any of us could react.

“Good job, Tony,” Bucky said, clapping Stark on the shoulder. “She’s definitely our new best friend.”

“She appeared out of nowhere,” I commented. “How did you know this was going to happen?”

With a false grin, Stark turned to stalk towards the door, step-hopping over one of the groaning robbers. “Intel. High tech stuff. You know, all the mumbo jumbo you don’t bother with.”

“You hacked into the criminal organization performing all these robberies, didn’t you?” I asked as we left the bank, the sirens of police cars echoing down the street as they approached the scene. Tony paused, throwing me a surprised look, then continued on. We sped up, unwilling to get trapped by the police, and were driving away in Stark’s car before anyone even noticed we had been there. “Seems her aim is to help people,” I announced. “Looks like we don’t need to get involved.”

“We’ll see,” Stark said before cranking Led Zeppelin’s  _ Immigrant Song _ and taking us home.

* * *

Over the next week, we received periodic updates from Stark. Usually they were links to news articles, or brief texts indicating our quarry’s activities that day. Bucky and I continued with our lives as usual, expecting that if Stark needed us, he’d let us know. Or show up and demand we get into his car, more likely.

After a few days of radio silence from Stark, we were out for a walk at a local farmer’s market when Bucky stopped short and grabbed my bicep. I paused, meeting his eye. He cocked his head to the right, his steely gaze flicking quickly to the side. Even though we spent so much time apart, our communication, spoken or otherwise, has never suffered. We just  _ get _ each other. Following his gesture, I caught sight of a woman who looked like our mysterious vigilante, at a market stand, picking out a few oranges and talking to the vendor. Her hair was a soft yellow, mimicking the cheery sunshine we had that day.

With a nod between us, we made our way through the market toward her. She turned around right as we reached the stall, her brown eyes widening the moment she saw us. 

“You…,” she said under her breath while she took a few steps backwards. “From the bank.”

I nodded, doing my best to give her a disarming smile. Bucky immediately flanked her, his military instincts overriding any other thoughts. I cleared my throat to catch his attention and shook my head, hoping he’d realize that cornering her was a bad idea. She caught onto his scheme immediately, her hair flashing a vibrant neon green before she dropped to her knees at his feet. Her long nailed hand shot out, fingertips brushing against his shin, and then she was gone, rolling under a nearby fruit stand. 

Bucky stopped moving the moment she touched him, his hands coming up to cover his face. Surging forward, I touched his shoulder. “Buck, you okay?” He was shaking, tears streaming out from under his hands. “What’s wrong?”

After a few exaggerated snuffles, he shook his head and scrubbed his palms over his face. “Don’t know what that was, but she’s quick. Did you see where she went?”

I scanned the market, but she was nowhere to be found. “No. Lost her. What happened?”

He shrugged. “I felt the worst sadness of my life when she touched me. Like I was...hopeless. It reminded me of…,” he trailed off, eyes growing distant as he remembered something.

“Hey--,” I interrupted, squeezing his shoulder to bring him back to the present. “You’re okay. Let’s keep looking, and try not to let her touch you again. I’ll call Stark and tell him we’ve…,” I stopped mid-sentence as I saw Bucky’s jaw drop, his gaze on something behind me.

“Go team!” Stark said as I turned around to face him, his hand encased in part of his Iron Man suit and firmly grasping the arm of our mystery woman. She struggled, her hair flashing in a strobe pattern, like an alarm, but she couldn’t break free. 

“Hands off, tin-man!” she growled, attempting to touch his bare skin somewhere,  _ anywhere _ , but failing as he held her at a distance. 

Chuckling to himself, Stark replied, “Iron, honey, not tin. Although, to be exact, it’s not even made of iron anymore. It’s actually a fleet of nanomachines which use--”

“No one cares,” Bucky interrupted. “How did you do that to me?” he asked the woman, peering curiously at her. She glared in response, clamping her mouth shut.

“Let’s try this back at Stark tower, shall we?” With that, the rest of the Iron Man suit was deployed and Stark was lifting off the ground, pulling the mystery woman in close and shooting them both north. 

Sighing, I looked at Bucky and picked up the bag of produce the woman dropped. “Wanna take a cab, or just hoof it?” 

He smirked, snatching a rolling orange off the ground that I missed and handing it to me. “Running would be faster.” I smiled back, threw the bag over my shoulder, and followed him through the crowded sidewalks and back alleys away from the market and towards Stark tower.

Within ten minutes, we crossed the 5 miles needed and walked inside, nodding at the security guards as we entered the elevator. As we reached Stark’s private floor, a screen with a touchpad pincode flickered to life. I tapped in my access code, held my thumb against the scanner, and said, “Steve Rogers.” 

“Access Denied,” the computer replied.

Rolling my eyes, I thought for a moment. “Spangles.” Behind me, Bucky snorted with laughter. 

“Access Granted. Welcome, Spangles and Rambo.”

“How does it know I’m here? I didn’t say anything,” Bucky said with a frown.

From outside the elevator, we heard, “When was the last time Spangles went anywhere  _ without _ you?” 

Under his breath, Bucky grumbled, “We’re not  _ always _ together…”

The scene in Stark’s living room took me by surprise. He was standing behind his bar, holding a glass of brown liquor, and the previously cranky woman was reclined on his couch with a glass of seltzer with lime. Her eyes tracked us while she took a drink, on edge but not as alarmed as she had been.

Unsure, I gazed at Stark, willing him to look at me and give some direction. He met my stare and smiled broadly, swirling his drink and taking a swig.  _ So much for helping. _

_ Right, _ I thought, walking over to sit on a chair across from the woman. Bucky followed suit, sitting near me and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I crossed my arms on my chest and faked a smile at her. She narrowed her eyes at me and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged, setting her glass down on the coffee table. The air between us felt tense. 

“My name is--” 

“Steve Rogers. I  _ know _ who you are,” she interrupted. I noticed her hair shifting to a pale reddish pink while she spoke, and wondered what that meant. “And you’re…,” she paused, swallowing. “Bucky Barnes. Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Here, in Stark Tower. Talking to  _ me _ .” The fingers of the hand resting on her knee tapped restlessly. She took a breath and glanced away, her hair turning a deeper shade of red.

I nodded and asked, “What’s your name?”

She snatched up her drink and took a few long sips of it. “It’s...Ashley. Hi.” 

Stark finally joined us, taking a seat on the couch next to Ashley. He smirked, settling back into the cushions and drinking slowly. He cleared his throat and commented, “Turns out Ashley is definitely a mutant. Tell them what you can do,” he encouraged. 

“I, uh...I feel others’ emotions,” she said quietly to the floor.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Stark replied, gesturing with his drink for her to continue.

She nodded and added, “And I can make people feel whatever I want by touching them.”

The connection between her hair and her power made sense, finally. “Your hair shows what you’re feeling?” I asked. Her head bobbed up and down while she glanced furtively at Bucky through her lashes. “When you feel what other people feel, is it all the time? Or can you turn it on and off?”

“Uh...I think it’s all the time. I can’t really tell, it’s just always been like this. I pretty much have every emotion at once, since I take in everything around me. Sometimes my own feelings are more prominent, or if the area I’m in has a certain feeling to it it’ll override everything else,” she replied with a shrug.

Clearing his throat, Bucky muttered, “Sounds overwhelming.”

She cocked her head to the side, staring at him intensely. “Yeah,” she replied quietly.

“So why take it to the next level? Why start intervening with crimes?”

Pursing her lips, Ashley looked down at the floor. “It’s...well, it’s the children. I feel them the strongest, and it became too much for me. Whenever I feel a child in fear, I just...I can’t help it. I have to do something.” She looked up suddenly, meeting Bucky’s gaze again. “I’m sorry,” she said. Even though she said it out loud, it felt like she meant to say it just to him. 

He shrank a bit in his chair, face tensing, before he shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Stark clapped his hands and popped up to his feet, his compact frame humming with his usual manic energy. “Well, that’s enough emotional stuff for me for the next five years. Do you go by anything other than  _ Ashley _ ?” The woman shook her head, looking completely lost, and picked up her seltzer to take a drink. “Better come up with something if you’re going to join the team.”

Sputtering, she coughed out, “The  _ team!?” _

“How about  _ The Empath _ ?” Stark suggested with a showy grin. “We’re definitely not running around as The Avengers and  _ Ashley _ . No offense, but you gotta have a superhero name to be on the team. Non-negotiable. Capiche?” He strode over to his computer and started pulling up footage of Ashley on the heads up display. 

She stared, wide-eyed, and choked out, “I'm not a superhero! I'm just a mom of three boys who needed something... more, and…”

“All right,  _ Empath  _ it is.” With that, Stark turned away from us, engrossed in something well above all our heads. 

She gaped at him, then turned to look across the coffee table at us in shock. “Really, I'm not a hero, I just couldn't feel all this anymore without doing something about it…”

_ Every so often, there’s an ordinary person who becomes a hero.  _

I smiled at Ashley, running a hand through my hair, much longer now that I'm in semi-retirement. “We get it. Welcome to the team.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky with a lopsided smirk. “Welcome.”

“But how do I... What do I…,” she stammered, looking rapidly at each of us.

After sharing a knowing look with Bucky, I reassured, “We’ll help you figure it out. I'm sure Stark is already designing a suit or something for you. None of us necessarily expected that we'd be here, doing this, but all of us do it for the same reason. We can't just stand by while people suffer, not when we can do something to make it right.”

Ashley watched me, her eyes changing from surprise to determination. “Okay. Yeah. I can do this. I can be a superhero. I'll just... do it somehow. Right?”

“We're all just figuring it out as we go. You're in good company,” Bucky replied with a smirk as he stood up.

“Not me!” shouted Stark from across the room. “I always know  _ exactly _ what I'm doing.”

“Sure, Stark,” I responded with a chuckle. 

“That’s  _ Your Highness _ , remember?!” he retorted. The three of us laughed together while Tony muttered under his breath and pretended to ignore us. 

“Thank you,” Ashley said to us when we calmed down. “Really.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, I smiled. “Anytime. Glad to have you on the team.”


End file.
